


Trust

by butterycornbread



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterycornbread/pseuds/butterycornbread
Summary: Byakuya is in rut, but he’s not the only one with impulses.
Relationships: Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 3
Kudos: 265





	Trust

One of the first decisions they made, along with the staying in their dorms after nighttime rule, was that any alpha who went into rut had to be tied up and supervised by beta eyes until it wore off. The arguments, made mostly by Celeste and Hina, were solid: whereas omegas were not interested in leaving their nests during heat, rutting alphas became obscenely territorial and aggressive, and so it was not exactly equal but it was undeniably fair. Omegas would seclude themselves in their rooms for the duration of their heats; alphas would be bound at the limbs and watched over by at least two betas until night fell and the omegas were safe behind locked doors. Unlike heat, which could last several days, rut was quick to come and quick to go. It all seemed very reasonable to Makoto.

Until he was the only beta left.

It didn’t seem wholly safe to him, but the others had agreed they trusted Makoto to be harmless. There were so few of them left, none could imagine another killing anyway—at least, not that they let on. Still, judging by the look in Byakuya’s eyes. Makoto had a feeling he wouldn’t mind drawing blood tonight.

They were sitting in the foyer just outside the dining hall, waiting for the last of the dorm rooms to close. Hina and Kyoko were talking about something, Makoto thought, but with his weak beta senses he couldn’t make out the particulars. The dining hall doors had already locked, confirming night had indeed fallen. Makoto didn’t really look forward to herding Byakuya back to his room . . .

Sakura had tried to explain it to him once. It wasn’t like total mindlessness; rutting alphas still knew their name, where they were, who their family was. But the line between friend and foe grew impossibly thin; they became so easily provoked, and the more their hearts pumped boiling blood the more unpredictable they got. Makoto knew that he, a neutral beta, posed no threat to Byakuya as another alpha would have, nor did he appeal as a fertile omega might. And yet, those cold blue eyes were locked on to him, and the way they were starting to look . . . were his pupils dilating?

“Are you okay?” Makoto asked, even though he knew alphas and omegas much preferred body language over verbal when they were in their enhanced states. “Is something . . .”

By chance, his gaze fell. It only skimmed over Byakuya’s body, really, but that was enough to notice it. His trousers were tight on a good day, but now they were tented to form an almost perfect outline of Byakuya’s erection.

Despite everything, Makoto’s heart began to beat a little faster.

Then he looked away, desperately searching for anything else to look at. Byakuya wasn’t necessarily _choosing_ this, he reminded himself; if he had more self-awareness, he would probably be furious, humiliated by the betrayal of his body. Makoto had seen those Heat is Not Consent posters online. He knew the rules, even if he’d always thought they would never apply to him.

_“Naegi.”_

Makoto’s throat caught. Slowly, reluctantly, he let his gaze find Byakuya again. The alpha was still watching him, but he was angled toward him; with his hands bound behind his back and his spine arched like that, he looked like a proud collie. A proud, impulsive, desperate collie. And there was an undeniably needy light in his eyes, though Makoto’s name had only sounded a little more brusque than usual—

Byakuya whined.

Makoto stared in astonishment. He had never dreamt he’d ever hear a sound so plaintive from the self-possessed heir. He was begging Makoto for something in the oldest language, the one Makoto instinctively understood despite his existence on the outskirts.

“Is it . . .” Makoto felt his ears burning as he gestured to Byakuya’s straining trousers. “Are they too tight?”

His only response was to tug at the binds around his knees.

Makoto chewed his lip. He couldn’t hear any more distant conversation; the others must be in bed by now. It was time to let Byakuya free anyway. But with him looking at Makoto that way . . .

It wasn’t as if Makoto thought Byakuya unattractive. On the contrary, he’d spent more than one night drifting to sleep with the alpha’s angular features in his dreams and waking with slightly sticky fingers in the morning. He was handsome, confident, capable. Any omega would be lucky to have him, Makoto had thought once, assuming the alpha had traditional tastes.

Perhaps he had assumed wrong.

“I . . .” Makoto looked into Byakuya’s eyes. A challenge between alphas, but from him it was next to nothing, or it should have been. “I’m going to untie your legs. Okay?”

Byakuya just stared at him, into him.

Makoto made quick work of the knots; if nothing else, this ordeal had taught him to tie and untie a proper knot. As soon as his knees were free, Byakuya spread his legs, leaving Makoto again staring directly at the hard-on that showed no sign of flagging.

“Um,” he said intelligently, once he’d swallowed his mouthful of drool.

Maybe he could not care about the rules, just for tonight. Maybe Byakuya wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow. Or maybe he knew full well what he was doing. Makoto wanted . . . but no. He was doing this with consent or he wasn’t doing it at all. He was a beta; what were they if not neutral, average, safe?

“Byakuya,” he said, and the alpha’s eyes sparked faintly as if in recognition, “if you can understand me, I need to know. I . . . I want this, too. But I have to know if you want it, and—and you know you do.”

He could’ve sworn he saw a fine eyebrow quirk.

“So, um,” he added, “if you want to and you know, can you please say yes?”

Byakuya let out a long, almost exasperated breath, and the intensity never left his eyes, and his voice came out far huskier than ever before, but he said it:

_“Yes.”_

A tiny starburst thrilled through his chest, then quickly sputtered out when he remembered he was a virgin and had really no idea how best to go about this. He knew what alphas did to omegas, but he didn’t have much reference for alpha-beta action. Sure, he’d been mildly successful with his _research_ online, but that didn’t mean he knew what Byakuya liked. He couldn’t ask him—not that he had the courage anyway. Maybe he should just untie him and . . . let him have his way.

The thought was equal parts tantalizing and terrifying. Maybe a little more terrifying, actually.

In any case, the trousers were painfully tight and Makoto couldn’t let him suffer any longer. He moved forward until he knelt between Byakuya’s spread legs and carefully placed his hand on his belt.

Immediately Byakuya’s hips hitched upward, blindly seeking any friction or sensation that might be available. Makoto squeezed his lips between his teeth to stifle a grin. He hadn’t realized how far gone Byakuya could become.

“Easy,” he mumbled, and gingerly unbuckled the belt. When Byakuya didn’t move, he tugged at the trousers. They were almost as tight as his boxer briefs; tight enough, in any case, that outer and underwear came down in one firm pull. And here was Byakuya’s cock, achingly hard, elegantly curved, head darkened by the torture of its entrapment, springing free and twitching a few times where it stood, dying to be touched.

Without thinking, Makoto hovered his hand over the tip, just close enough to feel the warmth off it.

Byakuya thrust up into his palm, breath hissing through his nostrils. Makoto couldn’t believe he was remaining seated, but perhaps he truly did know what he wanted. Perhaps his protests weeks ago— _I for one have never lost control of my own actions_ —were truthful.

Makoto was far more interested in the feeling brought on when Byakuya fought upward for his touch. Seeing this grand alpha driven to hump pitifully into a flat hand, seeing the size of his pupils and the shudder of his chest . . . all of it had power surging through Makoto.

And so he began to tease him.

Makoto feathered his fingertips over the shaft, thumbed at his frenulum, tickled the head—everything but actual, genuine strokes. Byakuya was snarling before long, thrusting in wanton frustration. Makoto laughed at him and brought his other hand lower to cradle his balls, keepers of the illustrious Togami seed. They were heavy with all his unspent lust, and Byakuya finally moaned when Makoto gave them the gentlest squeeze.

Pleasure throbbed between Makoto’s legs at the sound, but he didn’t care about himself right now. Byakuya always liked to be the one in charge, but he’d let Makoto take the lead for this, and that gift was one to be cherished. He was the center of attention, and Makoto wouldn’t have it any other way tonight.

Precum slicked Makoto’s hand as he swirled it around and around Byakuya’s cockhead, polishing it like a knob. Muscles shifted in Byakuya’s jaw as he clenched it; his snarl had fallen to ragged panting. Makoto suspected rut was not typically a time for stamina, and felt impressed that he’d lasted this long—and guilty, as well, for drawing it out. Still, Byakuya had said yes before; surely he would say no now if he didn’t like this. And the look in his eyes . . .

Makoto felt the slightest shift of Byakuya’s body, a tensing. He was close.

“Okay,” he said softly; he didn’t have the nerve or the technique to truly deny Byakuya. He swirled one last salty droplet onto his palm, then wrapped it around Byakuya’s shaft and began pumping, hard and fast. Normally he slid a thumb over his own head when he did it to himself, but he wasn’t used to this angle, nor was he quite accustomed to this particular size. Byakuya’s attitude might be compensating for something, but it definitely wasn’t for this.

His breaths came faster and faster, so harsh Makoto could feel them on his face. Byakuya tipped his head back but kept his fierce gaze on Makoto, even as his thighs trembled and his body jolted and his balls lifted and— 

Makoto blinked, startled, white clouding his vision. Warm, wet dripped down his cheek, lingered on his eyelashes. Byakuya had painted him. Even with a beta nose, Makoto had no trouble at all sensing the musk he was now enveloped in.

Byakuya slumped back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, satisfied at last. In fact . . . he almost looked like he was smirking.

For several seconds, Makoto was speechless. Then he pushed to his feet and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Byakuya offered no response. His cock, resting against the concave slope of his abdomen, was already starting to soften. Apparently alphas didn’t knot if they weren’t penetrating.

_You learn something new every day._

Makoto hurried to the bathroom, washed his hands and his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, but his reflection seemed like it always did. He just looked like Makoto . . . but apparently that meant he looked like someone Byakuya was interested in.

Despite everything, Makoto smiled.

He brought a paper towel to clean Byakuya up with. The alpha didn’t protest or make any sound at all, just watched him. Makoto wondered what he was thinking. Eloquent thoughts? Or just the base inferences of an animal?

“I’m going to untie your arms,” he told him. “We should really, uh, go to bed.”

Byakuya looked at him steadily as he leaned forward. Makoto reached between him and the wall to unbind his wrists. He was free.

In a flash, they were both on their feet, Byakuya pinning Makoto’s front to the wall and his own front to Makoto’s back. Arousal and fear tingled through Makoto’s body, hot and cold.

“A secret,” Byakuya whispered, through bared teeth by the sound of it. His breath burned the back of Makoto’s ear.

“Safe with me,” Makoto agreed nervously. If he could taste his own fear, an alpha this close could too.

Byakuya chuckled, a low, dark sound. “If I wanted to hurt you . . .”

The weight left him. Makoto, breath held, turned to look at him.

Byakuya buckled his belt and regarded Makoto with faint amusement. “I would have already.”

Makoto swallowed. “So, um . . . right. So. Are—we . . . ?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “A Togami would never stoop so low on a regular basis. One develops a slouch that way, and I’m known for my perfect posture.”

Makoto wasn’t sure standing with your pelvis tilted outward counted as perfect posture, but Byakuya was talking again before he could open his mouth.

“However.” Byakuya met his gaze again. The only traces remaining was the predatory sharpness of his attention. “If I again find myself . . . compromised. I must admit, you are better than nothing.” He turned and strode away. “Good night.”

Makoto watched him go, mouth agape. He didn’t know if he should feel hope or despair for that particular interaction, but it was a tomorrow problem. For now, all he could do was go to bed. He quickly discovered he could still smell Byakuya on his skin.

Much, much better than nothing.


End file.
